


I'm Losing My Sight, Losing my Mind

by WisconsinMixer



Category: Smosh Games
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 16:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7322944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WisconsinMixer/pseuds/WisconsinMixer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wes is depressed after his girlfriend dies. He keeps to himself and doesn't interact with them as much as he used to. One day he finds an unexpected love. Especially because his new found love interest works with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Walk This Empty Street on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I want to dabble in. It might turn into absolute shit, but it's a concept that inspired me. I have a writer's block for other stories, so I decided to try some fan fiction. No one will probably read this but oh well.

Wes had fallen into a deeper depression than he had ever experienced in his whole life. He was way past the numbness he originally felt when his dear girlfriend of nearly two years passed away. Six months later he had feelings of hopelessness and loneliness. He would awake in erratic often occurring cold sweats and night terrors. His mouth felt like cotton and suffocated his being. Once he calmed down enough to realize he was somewhat OK, he still broke down. Nothing could truly be all right again. For his spirit died with her.  
He prayed sometimes. Even though he didn’t believe in a heavenly father. He prayed that if there was an after life that Remina was bathing in the flowers of it. He hoped she would wait for him. No, not wait for. She would be happy until he came back. She would spend her days watching Anime videos that they used to watch and attend cosplay competitions much like she did during her time on earth.  
He was allowed an ample amount of time off of work for grieving. But that depressed him even more. After a month and a half he went back to work to distract his mind and be surrounded by people he loved. After Wes’s girlfriend died his parents travelled from where they lived in Ohio. They helped him get back on his feet. He became annoyed with them very quickly because they tried to analyze his thoughts and dreams. They had never experienced a death so young in their lives so they weren’t much help. It pained him when they left, but at the same time he knew it was necessary.  
Now Wesley Johnson barely left the house. He only left for work and to pick up food at the grocery store. His weight had ballooned and his suicidal thoughts skyrocketed. He could drown his thoughts with sleeping pills and alcohol. But it often made him hungover when he went to work. He knew he wasn’t successfully coping with the death, but he also wasn’t sure if he should be allowed to still be alive. After all, Remina got her life cut short in a massive car accident. She would never breathe again. Never eat again. Never laugh again. Never draw again. Never push his buttons again. She was dead. And a part of him died with her. His insides were dead. His body was still existing. He wished he was dead often.  
Wes shut off his computer after a day of editing videos for Smosh Games. He no longer was required to show his face in Smosh Games videos, but he worked halfheartedly behind the scenes. In place of his typical goofy edits were edits that weren’t as cheery. He didn’t add comedy to the video. He edited them and then would sulk the rest of the day until he got another pointless video to edit. The other members of his team would let him be. But it was getting too much for them to handle. They couldn’t stand one of their compadres to be in such an awful state. They would crack jokes and ask him about his weekend. He might smile, but his heart wasn’t in the right place. And he would always answer weekend questions with, “I did nothing.”  
He also left the office without saying bye to any of his coworkers/friends. This worried them. They wanted to help Wes, but knew he had thick brick walls surrounding himself. He was not coming out anytime soon. Sometimes they would hear a phone call and hope that it wouldn’t be someone telling them that Wes had taken his own life. They needed to confront him before it was too late.


	2. Don't Write Yourself Off Yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in college full-time and work part-time. Writing this in my little free time keeps me sane. But I rarely get free time, so I'm not able to update often.

Wes has never told anyone he is bisexual. Anyone still living. His secret died with Remina. He’s pretty sure she never told a living soul his secrets. He never told anyone her secrets. They were two somewhat fucked up people who were perfect together. Were. That word still caught him off guard. Still made his throat clench and heart burn. Still ached him to even think about.  
Kids in school were cruel. He had many bullies all throughout middle school and high school. Kids who called him names such as “gay” “faggot” “loser” “nerd”. He had few friends. He didn’t meet anyone who had the same interests as him. Smosh Games were all like him in many ways. But Remina was different. She was very much like him. She even told him that she had no friends throughout school. She would study and then go back to her house and watch anime. It wasn’t until she entered the workforce that she realized that if people didn’t want to hang out with her she didn’t want to befriend them either. Remina was socially anxious. But later she realized she was an important and kick ass person. To the outside world they were atypical and not normal. But they soon came to accept their quirks and oddities. They cosplayed together. They did whatever the fuck they wanted to express themselves. They loved each other and that was the only thing they knew. And the only thing that mattered.  
“Life is too short to even care at all,” they would sing Young the Giant to each other while laying and bed. “I’m losing my mind. Losing my mind. Losing control.”  
That song was a song he could never picture himself listening to again. But when his cellphone rang again it played. He couldn’t bring himself to answer the call. He turned off his cellphone. But then became too curious to ignore it.  
He opened it hours later to see a missed message. A text. From Joshua Ovenshire. And it said one sentence. Four words. But those four words were very serious. “I’m worried about you.”  
Wes knew he could play it off with a bullshit, “I’m fine.” Or a naïve, “Why?” But the truth was, he was worried about being left alone with himself too. After minutes of hyperventilating and retyping the same sentence he sent, “Do you want to come over? I’m feeling especially lonely. Remina would be 25 today.”  
And before he knew it Joven was there. Banging on the door. But Wes didn’t have the strength to lift himself from the weight pushing him to the floor. “Wes. Wes? Are you there? Please answer? Please?”  
Joven’s mind was flooded with feelings of, “what if I’m too late?” And at that moment he vowed to never let Wes be alone again. He would annoyingly wedge himself into Wes’s life. He’d make sure he had a shoulder to cry on. A body to talk to. After all, Joven knew too God damn well what depression could do to a person. And he didn’t want Wes to feel as lousy as he had once felt. But fear struck Joven again. Wes could be dead for all he knew. That could be the reason he did not open the door. He knocked harder. Not afraid to wake up the neighbors in the apartment. This was far more important. A matter of life and death.  
Wes was too sweet for all the cruelness occupying his life. And now Joven’s fingers were hovering over 911. His body was ready to bust the door down. He shouted, “Wes. Fucking God. If you’re in there, please open up. I’m bout ready to break this door down. And if you have committed suicide I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you. Please be alive. Life’s shit now. And life will be shit for a long time. But believe me. It does get better. Please open up.”  
And hearing the door knob turn was the most majestic sound Joven ever heard. His hands were still shaking and his fists were clenched, ready to punch the living daylight out of his friend for the waves of terror he experienced. One look at Wes’s sullen body in only black boxers with sulfurous tears and sweat plastering his face turned Joven’s punches into childishly tucking Wes into his bed and not letting him out of his sight for two heavy days.


End file.
